Adrenaline
by Taylor-V
Summary: There is an attempted murder in the Toretto household. And just when Dom thinks things can't get any worse, the world decides to become his enemy. He has to take back what is rightfully his - no matter what it costs.
1. Sun

**Chapter 1 – Sun**

* * *

Engines revved threateningly around him, and though the threats made him chuckle smugly on the inside, Dom didn't crack a smile. Instead, he glared each driver down through the path of windows constructed by the bodies of their cars. Dom slowly turned his attention back to the road, one hand grasping the wheel, the other resting lightly on the gearshift. The vehicle purred contentedly, excited for the race. His foot itched toward the clutch and he drew in a breath to calm his eager heart. Sliding his hand over to the passenger's seat, he tossed up the seat and twisted the handles of the NOS tanks. A hissing sound spouted from the tanks and Dom flipped the seat back down. The countdown began, and the same thoughts that had haunted him since the night it happened ran through his mind.

_Don't think about her. Not now._

_Don't think. Drive. Don't _think.

His car screamed over the starting line, gaining an impressive lead on the other four competitors. The progression to fifth gear was quick, quicker than usual.

_Don't think._ Dom's hands grew clammy. His chest squeezed taught. _Drive. That's all that matters. Don't let yourself think about her. Don't—_Beautiful, beaming, Letty's face burst in front of his eyes like the sun, like _his _sun, blinding him from everything else around him. Thrown by the surprise, Dom's hands gripped the wheel, one thumb smashing the NOS release button down. The wheels squealed against the cement, slamming the back of his head into the headrest. The sudden shock woke him from the dazed stupor and Dom tried to regain control of the car. Though it hadn't swerved off course, he'd hit the damn button too early. The nitrous oxide already dissipated and the white car behind him sped ever closer. Dom shook the abrupt, aching, empty hole in his chest out of his mind and focused again on the race.

"Fuck."

Dom scolded himself for just a half-second, then recollected his thoughts and kicked straight back into action. Targeting the finish line—he was just over half-way there—kept him in check, and he waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the wheel, for the perfect moment. The white car had nearly caught up when something clicked in Dom's head and his hands, reacting automatically, pressed the second release. This time around, he was ready. Fingers wrapped vice-like around the wheel, back rammed into the seat, accelerator jammed to the floor, Dom crossed the red line nearly ten feet ahead of everyone else. He kicked the brake down and burned tracks into the road while swiveling to a stop. Shift in neutral, parking brake set, car off, keys removed, Dom stepped shakily from the vehicle. He attempted, somewhat successfully, to hide the anxiety that coursed through him like a tapeworm, consuming everything it could and leaving him completely, painfully empty.

The familiar sensation of sweaty bodies thrusting themselves on him swept Dom up in a wave of blissful ignorance. He smiled and accepted congratulations gratefully, laughing at some people that so obviously begged for a laugh, shaking some hands, answering some questions with shortly-phrased answers. Other cars swung to their stops and their owners fell out, cussing and scowling and growling and any other number of infuriated actions. They grudgingly handed him his winnings and trudged away. But the only person that Dom wanted at his side couldn't be there. So he settled for the next best thing; or, the equally best thing.

Eyes drifting over the heads of the rowdy mass, Dom searched incessantly for his sister, spotting her about twenty feet away. Mia perched on the hood of a black Honda Civic, with Brian's arm draped around her shoulders, grinning broadly at her brother. Her eyes—the strangest sort of clear, deep, gemlike brown—sparkled proudly and she snuggled into Brian's side. He too smiled at Dom, but his lips merely twitched upward crookedly, unlike the full-blown, pearly white of Mia's. Dominic tried to be polite about it: he gradually made his way to the Civic, flashing grins at everyone that patted his shoulder. Finally managing to free himself of the throng, Dom climbed nimbly up to them and alit by their side, elbows resting on his knees.

"Nice race, Dom," Mia approved brightly, nodding in acknowledgement.

"Thanks, Mia." Dom pecked her lightly on the cheek.

"Your first shot was too early," Brian commented, grinning cockily at him. "I thought you were gonna lose there for a second."

"Boy, that crash really knocked your head," Dom half-joked, slapping the back of the ex-Fed's head. He relished the peacefulness that encompassed him when with Brian and Mia. He always felt very, unexplainably calm. The feasting tapeworm shrank down and wiggled desperately, its nutrition sapping away with the improvement of his mood.

"How much didja get?" Mia wondered curiously.

"Uh… couple grand. Nothing to brag about."

"Dom, what if I started racing?" Mia piped, and by the way her eyes flickered from his face, out to the crowd, and back, he knew that _she_ already knew the answer.

"Mia, I don't want you getting caught up in all this…" Dom's face scrunched reluctantly, trying to be kind.

"Just to help with money!" she protested. When Dom opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off hastily. "And I'm already caught up in it. Whatever you're in, I'm in."

"And whatever _she's_ in, _I'm_ in," Brian added, squeezing Mia's shoulder gently.

Dominic frowned. "You remember my warning, Brian?" He constantly reminded the boy—because that's all he was; a boy—of the threat he had delivered before Brian and Mia's first date. The one stating: "If you break her heart, I'll break your neck." He'd let him slide before. He wouldn't again.

Brian waved his hand lightly, expelling air sharply through his nose in an almost non-existent laugh. "Yeah. Sure."

"I'm serious."

Brian stared directly into Dom's eyes. "I won't hurt her."

"That's what you said last time."

"Give it a rest," Mia growled, ending the conversation.

After a small moment of silence, Mia stretched her arms and sighed contentedly. "How about we go to dinner? The three of us. At Cha Cha Cha's."

A defeated laugh rumbled from deep within Dom's throat. "All right."

They slid off the hood, clambered into the car, and slowly carved a path out of the raceway to make their way to the quaint Cuban restaurant.

* * *

_*A/N: read and review! please and thank you!_ =D


	2. Survivor's Guilt

**Chapter 2 – Survivor's guilt**

* * *

Two-thirty. Two-fucking-thirty. A.M. Dom twisted angrily in his sheets, which stuck with sweat and tangled around his legs. Infuriated, he kicked them all off onto the floor, lying restlessly on his bare mattress. White patterns flowed across the ceiling in the dark, tinted only by the blue hue of moonlight that seeped through the cracks around his blinds. He groaned and pressed his fists to his eyes, trying to force the darkness to drag him down. Unfortunately, it did nothing but cause Letty's face to explode before him again in a burst of impossible happiness and drowning depression. Yanking the pillow uselessly over his face, Dom released all of his frustration into one long, muffled bellow. He tossed it to the side and stood out of bed, crossing the room to the window in two long strides. The breeze flowed in as soon as it opened, cooling his sweaty face and cleansing his senses with fresh air. Dom inhaled and exhaled evenly, deeply. Memories of Letty flashed through his mind, making his entire body tense uncomfortably. And he couldn't help feeling that it was his fault. His fault that she was dead, buried six feet in the ground. His fault that the newest tombstone in the cemetery read 'Leticia Ortiz'. If he'd only stayed with her, she'd never have felt the need to bring him back. She'd never have tried to bring Braga to the FBI to clear his name, never been murdered. It was his fault.

Holding his breath inside, too guilty to cry, Dominic clawed at his head, peeling skin away under his fingernails.

"Letty…" he gasped breathlessly, sinking down to his knees. Cool wind bit at the scrapes that now bled freely from his skin. "I'm sorry…." His body trembled uncontrollably, shivering from inside out, and his elbows slipped across the windowsill. His chin dropped limply on the wood, sending a sudden jolt of pain through his jaw. "I shouldn't've left you… I should've just stayed…."

Dom mumbled hysterically until the blue tint faded to pink, orange, and finally yellow.

Morning stung his eyes and shook him awake, if that's what it would be called. He wasn't certain that he hadn't fallen asleep once during that entire time, but he felt exhausted. His eyes were dry and bloodshot, but they couldn't close; his arms and legs and neck were weak, yet they continued to shiver. The mattress had started to look extremely appetizing, but he didn't have the strength to move a centimeter. Dom gazed at the sky as the sun rose, watched as the giant glowing orb broke over the horizon and levitated in the endless blue. But it was too painful; Letty's bright, smiling face shone through the rays and reduced him to fits of shaking. All the while, the guilt built up in his chest, legs, arms, neck, back, stomach… everything filled with lead, dropping past their usual position to weigh him down to the floor. Even his heart seemed to be pumping with a sort of lethargy, slow and restricted. Unable to look away from the sun despite the pain it caused, Dom wasn't sure what time it was when the door flung open.

"Dom!"

Brian's voice. Worried, a little groggy with sleep… but happy. Footsteps hurried to Dom's frozen position at the window and hesitated behind him.

"Ugh, c'mon, buddy." Brian threw Dom's arm around his shoulder and heaved. Dom didn't resist. "Let's take a nice nap. You look like shit."

No response came from the larger, stunned man. Brian slipped out from under Dom with some difficulty, as he was trying to keep him from face-planting onto the floor. Instead, Dom face-planted onto the bed.

"Better than the floor, I guess," Brian allowed.

The blonde grasped Dom's wrists and flipped him over onto his back.

"It's a good thing you're already in your pajamas," Brian grumbled. "I don't feel much like undressing you."

He grabbed the pillow and blankets and situated Dom so that he was comfortable before shutting the blinds. The blue morning light dimmed considerably into grey. As Brian caught his breath, he patted Dom's shin lightly.

"Survivor's guilt is the worst, dude. I feel your pain."

"You don't." Dom's voice grated against his throat, already stifled by the cotton pillow covering half his mouth. "You don't know… how…." He couldn't finish, because even _he_ didn't know what he felt.

Brian paused before speaking again.

"Well… I'll send Mia up in a while to check on you."

Dom's eyes flickered shut and open again, moistening his eyeballs appreciatively.

"Don't," he rasped. "Don't… tell Mia. She's got enough going on without me being weak like this."

"You're not being _weak_—"

"Don't. Tell. Her." Dom's hoarse words were final. "I'll be down in a couple of hours."

Brian glanced at him uncertainly, but shut the door behind him as he left the room.

Dom lay in bed, still as a statue, until he faded into an unconscious darkness.

***

_His body rumbled in sync with the car around him. The road flashed past in strips of yellow and grey and darker grey where telephone poles sent off a shadow. Sun beat down, glinting off the black Civic in front of him. Dom pressed the accelerator further to the floor, urging the car to speed up. The Civic was getting away._

_Pounding the NOS release, Dom braced for the sudden shot of speed. It didn't come. Bewildered, he punched the button again, harder. With an abrupt jerk of the car, he was flying down the road so fast that everything to his sides blurred together. He laughed triumphantly; he was catching up. Glancing at the rearview mirror, his eye caught on a glitter just below it. A diamond cross, hanging by its chain from the mirror. Dom grinned. She was near somewhere. He would catch up to this car and then go find her._

_The NOS faded after a minute and Dom growled. How could he go find her if he couldn't catch the damn car? He jammed the second release down, infuriated that the car wasted his precious time with her. It exploded forward and Dom nearly tipped the back bumper of the Civic._

_And then the car was no where to be seen. What the hell? Dom swiveled around, checking his sides and rear to be sure that he hadn't just passed it while inattentive._

"_DOM, DON'T—!" Brian's voice screamed through the car._

_Instinctually, Dom slammed on the brake and the car's tires locked. Horror flooded through him, overwhelming his brain as he caught sight of what replaced the car ahead._

"_NO!" he bellowed desperately. "LETTY, MOVE!"_

_There she lay, in the middle of the road, spread-eagled and smiling up at the sun. She twisted her head to face the noise, removing the sunglasses that rested on the bridge of her nose._

_Dom swerved the car sharply to the right with a harsh, deafening screech and locked gazes with the terrified woman. Her clear, dark brown eyes widened in fear, certain of what came next. Helplessness ripped Dom's chest in two as he shoved the steering wheel as far right as it would go._

_The tires rolled uncontrollably straight at her._

_Dom held his breath, wishing more than anything in the world that it would miss._

_His side of the car lifted slightly, a sickening thump squishing from underneath. It dropped to the road in half a second. Dom couldn't move, and wouldn't have moved if he could, as the car smashed into the ditch off the road, blackening his vision._

***

Dom's body jolted like he'd been tasered and he blinked up at a ceiling, tinted yellow and pink from the sun outside.


	3. Cranberry Juice

**Chapter 3 – Cranberry Juice**

* * *

*A/N: I totally forgot to mention… this is what I think would have happened if Dom hadn't been sentenced to jail. (Btw…. HOW SWEET WAS THAT ENDING? CAN'T WAIT FOR THE FIFTH ONE!)

* * *

Mia hefted the brown paper bags—fit to burst with the amount of groceries stuffed in them—onto the kitchen counter. Exhaling, she turned her back to the edge and leaned on it. Her arms throbbed tiredly. She rested for just a moment, and then returned to unloading the bags and putting their contents into their rightful places. While working, her thoughts strayed to her older brother, who still slept upstairs though three o'clock had come and passed long ago, at least three hours.

Letty's death hit him hard, harder than she would have ever thought possible. Oh, sure, Mia knew Dom had a soft side. She just had no idea it was _that_ soft. Like, a kitten's belly soft. Or maybe Letty had just grown to be such a part of him that without her his rough hide peeled away, the grief broke him down, and this was what was left. Brian said Dom hadn't slept all night, so the bout of hyper insomnia was to be expected. But Mia had watched her brother in the weeks since the whole ordeal ended, and came to a disturbing conclusion. Dom was torturing himself. This notion ate at Mia's insides, because she couldn't do anything about it.

An abrupt shattering brought Mia back from her thoughts. Glancing toward the floor, she saw the splinters of glass scattered over the tile that resulted from her elbow knocking a glass off the counter.

"Dammit," she growled, kneeling down to pick up the largest shards.

"Mia?" Brian's worried tone called out to her from the living room, and he instantly appeared in the doorway. "Are you okay?"

She sighed irately before answering. "Yes, I'm fine. I dropped a glass."

Brian hurried to her side and bent next to her. He tugged a dishrag from the drawer and swept the entire pile into the cloth. "I got it," he flashed a quick smile at her.

Mia straightened up and continued organizing. After a swift moment, Brian stood up and dropped the towel, and all the glass, into the trash. Tying the bag into a tight knot, he lifted it from the plastic container and set it outside.

"Be careful with those," he cautioned, rinsing his hands off under a stream of hot water in the sink.

"Thanks," Mia grinned at him and shut the cabinet door.

Brian beamed, his pearly white teeth in great contrast with his tan skin. He held out his arms for her. Mia hovered doubtfully for a second, but rushed into them. The warmth of his chest comforted her as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Brushing the top of her head with his lips, Brian muttered,

"He'll be fine. He just needs time."

Surprised, as always, that Brian knew what she was thinking, Mia lifted her chin.

"I know, but…. This is crazy for Dom. I've never seen him so depressed. I don't know if I should…_do_ something, or…. I don't know."

Brian's hands cupped her face.

"It'll all work out in time," he promised.

Mia blinked, his startlingly blue eyes dazzling. She lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. It remained soft for just a moment, but grew to a passion. Her lips moved demandingly and she clutched at his back. Brian gripped her waist and pulled her even closer, if that was possible.

"Hey. No mackin' on my sister in the kitchen."

The two broke away, flustered, and instinctually tried to rid themselves of evidence by smoothing their hair, straightening their shirts, etc. Mia's mouth twitched up at the corners.

A well-rested Dominic stood in the arch, rubbing his neck and yawning. He squinted up at them, only slightly reprimanding.

"Dom!" Mia's voice was breathy with relief. She dug through one of the paper bags. "I got you…" her words died off as she searched. "Cranberry juice!" She held up a large jug filled with the tangy maroon liquid.

Dom stepped forward and took it from his sister. "What, do I have a urinary tract infection?"

Mia's face fell. "Well, it's your favorite…. I—"

"I know," Dom smiled and gave her a one-armed hug. "Thanks." Twisting off the cap, he snatched a cup from the cabinet and poured himself a glass. The sour kick shook him awake.

"You were out for a while there," Brian observed. "What'd you do all night?"

Dom responded by taking another sip of the juice. A knock came from the door, and they all glanced toward it. Brian stood straight, away from the counter.

"Don't rush your answer," he smirked, heading out into the living room. "I'll go get the door."

Dom glared after him thoughtfully, then faced Mia.

"I thought I heard a crash…."

She shrugged. "I dropped a glass, no big thing. Sorry if it woke you."

"No, I was already awake."

"Dom," Mia tapped her nails on the counter to keep herself focused. "This funk you're in—"

_BANG!_

Mia nearly jumped out of her skin; Dom tossed his cup into the sink with a plastic sort of clatter. That sound was too familiar. The deafening explosion of gunpowder in its casing, the bullet speeding down the barrel, he'd heard it too many times. Dom had already made it to the door by the time Mia registered what happened and he'd yelled for her to go upstairs.

"My ass!" she shouted back, and sprinted to his side.

The sight that met her eyes jumbled her brain. Brian on the floor, bleeding profusely from a hole in his gut; Dom, jumping in front of Mia to shield her from the attacker. Mia shoved past him and fell to the floor at Brian's head.

"Brian!" she gasped, too stunned to sob. "_Brian!_"

If Dom were a wolf, his teeth would be gnashing violently and his fur on end. He glared at the perpetrator with a ferocity belonging to one.

"Normally I don't hit girls," he snarled through his teeth, clenching his fists. "But I might just make an exception in your case."

The female's lips spread into a cold, calculated smile across ghostly pale cheeks. Her head angled downward so that she stared at Brian's heaving chest. She mumbled something incoherent, the sneer still frozen onto her skin. The pessimistic expression didn't suit her.

"Get out of here," Dom barked. "You're lucky I can't kill you right now."

Slowly, she lifted her head to reveal shockingly sapphire irises, cold and hard as the gemstone itself. Dom's nails dug into his skin.

"Why not?" she purred, her voice low and smooth. "I killed _him_."

In a nearly-invisible flash of his arm, Dom smashed her skull into the side of the doorway. She crumpled, unconscious, to the floor, though her face looked peaceful. Dom left her, disgusted, and began attending to Brian's wound.


	4. Siren

**Chapter 4 – Siren**

* * *

The strangest feeling spread from Brian's arm to the rest of his body. A tingling, numb sensation flowed through him, rendering him nearly incapable of movement. Everything blurred and swirled in his vision, dissolving into darkness and back. He tried to voice the oddity, but all he could manage was a slurred mumble.

Mia stood over him—they set his body on the table for the time being—as Dom lugged the girl into the garage. She got to work immediately, stifling the fury that rose like bile in her throat, dressing the wound until it was safe to take him to the hospital. She covered the bloody hole with plastic wrap to seal out air and taped gauze over that, only securing three sides to his skin. Pressing the heel of her hand onto the puncture to stem the flow, she locked her eyes anxiously on the back door, urging Dom to hurry.

He moved as fast as he could with the girl's body limp in his arms. The hair on his skin stood on end with anger, and he let her drop to the cement with a satisfying _thud_. Dom resisted the powerful desire to spit and, locking every single door out of the garage, treaded irately back to Mia.

"The ambulance is on its way," she stated, shifting so pressure could be applied better.

"EMTs? Are you fucking kidding me? I've got to—"

"Dom!" Mia yelped. "You're not illegal anymore!"

"Did you stop the bleeding?" Dominic grumbled as he folded his arms over his chest, turning over the notion of his newfound freedom in his mind.

"As best I could," Mia allowed, peering at him doubtfully from the corner of her almond eyes. "It's an abdomen wound; it isn't going to stop easily. Can you hand me that ice pack?"

Dom picked up the icy blue plastic bag and stepped over to her in one move. "Where do you need it?"

She snatched it from his hands, distress straining her nerves, and placed it on Brian's pallid skin.

"What about pressure points?" Dom offered.

"For an abdomen wound?" Mia snapped. "Dom, that's for limb punctures."

"Well, I dunno," he mumbled. "I'm just trying to help."

Mia sighed miserably. "I know, I know… I'm sorry."

Dom kissed his sister's sweaty cheek. "It's cool, Mia."

The unmistakable wail of sirens swelled from the end of their street, finally blaring right outside their doors. Two EMTs in blue suits unloaded a gurney while the third raced up the steps and into the house.

"In here!" Mia's voice cracked with pressure.

Dom left to prop open the door for the other two paramedics. They lifted the stretcher up the porch and fitted it perfectly through the door. Dom followed, watching apathetically, waiting patiently for the time when he could wrap his fingers around that girl's neck.

Mia fluttered about, trying to interfere with the EMTs, making sure that they checked Brian's breathing and pulse, keeping him comfortable.

"Ma'am, if you want him to live you're going to have to let us do our jobs," one of them said.

"Hey." Dom growled. "She's just worried. You could be a bit more polite."

The man took one look at the size of Dom's arms and turned back to Brian without another word. Dom coiled his arm around Mia's waist and steered her away.

"C'mon," he said softly, trying to soothe her. "They're right. They'll take care of him. Let's go to the car."

It took her a minute, but Mia nodded in defeat and allowed Dom to lead her out into the sticky night air. They sat in the seats of his Mazda, air conditioner on full-blast, waiting for the medics to roll Brian out to the ambulance. What felt like hours passed, and Mia fidgeted so badly that Dom finally had to lock the windows.

"You're going to kill my battery," he joked.

"I'm sorry, _Dom_," she spat. "I'm sorry they're taking for-fucking-_ever_ to get him out here! I'm sorry Brian's _dying_ and I'm _worried_."

Dom couldn't help but burst into guffaws at the infuriated expression stretched over her face.

"What are you laughing at?!" she shrieked, smacking his arm.

"Mia!" he tried to speak through the increased laughter. "You need to _calm down!_ Brian will be fine! And, see? There they are!"

He pointed out the windshield, and sure enough, the previous two EMTs wheeled Brian out to the ambulance while the other clambered into the driver's seat. Once he was loaded in and set, the sirens flipped back on.

Dom turned off the A/C and rolled down the windows, preferring the natural breeze to the overdone, artificial wind. Remaining still in the silence for just a moment, the full effect of what had happened settled on to Dom's chest. Letty, now Brian…. His lungs clenched. Nothing was going right. He was losing everything; the next thing the world would try to take from him would be Mia, he could feel it.

As the white vehicle pulled away from the curb, whining terribly, one of the inhabitants of the house across the street threw open their window and thrust their head out.

"Hey!" They shouted. "Shut the hell up!"

Dom plunged the accelerator down and sped away, bellowing as he did.

"FUCK YOU!"

His words reverberated through the thick, humid air long after they'd gone.


	5. Reassurance

**Chapter 5 - Reassurance**

* * *

_*A/N: I'm sorry if I offend anyone with the non-capitalization of the word 'heaven'. I'm not totally sure if it's supposed to be capitalized or what… so don't smite me please! =D As always, R&R, por favor!_

* * *

Light.

Blinding, white light. It must be heaven.

But if it was heaven, wouldn't the white hot burning in his gut have dissipated by now, instead of searing through him unbearably?

Brian's eyes squinted against the brilliant beam blazing down on his pupils. Through the rush of blood in his ears, he could just pick up the muffled shouts of the people at his sides.

"We've got an abdominal gun wound!" someone yelled. Their voice slurred in his ears. "Approximately thirty-five years old, bleeding severely! Get me some…. "

Some what he never heard, for the flames centered in his abdomen surged uncontrollably at that moment. Brian gazed dazedly up at the unfamiliar faces, trying to get his brain to focus. He remembered Mia, picking up the glass, kissing Mia, holding Mia's hand…. And he remembered Dom, standing in the archway. The doorbell rang then, and he went to answer it. A girl—albeit a very pretty girl—smiling up at him. He asked her what she needed; she asked him if he was Brian O'Connor. Yes, he'd responded. And that's as far as his memory took him.

Soft skin brushed his cheek, and Brian automatically leaned into it. The warmth comforted him; he didn't want it to go away. Blinking blearily up at the owner of the palm, his already unstable pulse raced.

"M… Mia…." he managed to choke the word out. His voice grated against his throat like sandpaper.

Mia's clear brown eyes glittered wetly as she smiled down at him.

"You're gonna be okay." Her voice hitched. "You'll be okay. I've got to stay here, but they'll take care of you. You'll be okay."

He wanted to tell her he loved her, he wanted to plead with her to stay with him, but exhaustion swept over his body and weakened his muscles. Blinking ferociously, Brian's eyes followed Mia until the doors shut in front of him.

An ungodly noise ripped from deep in Mia's chest and she wrapped her arms around herself. The empty, glazed look of Brian's sky blue irises scarred her vision, causing tremulous sobs to shake her entire body. A second pair of arms—muscular, but soft—pulled her to the body they belonged to. Dom kissed the top of his sister's head and rested his chin there, following in the direction her eyes pointed.

"Mia," he said, attempting to be calming. "You're going into hysterics. Try to relax."

"B-B-Bri-i-ian i-is g-g-going-ing t-to d-die-e!" she gasped.

Dom couldn't speak, and it killed him. To watch his baby sister, his Mia, torturing herself like this. He couldn't reassure her, tell her it would be all right. He didn't know if it would be all right. He needed someone to tell _him_ it would be all right. Dom scrunched his eyebrows together, determined not to rage out at someone—_any_one. Any _thing_. He was trapped; trapped in a hell vortex where the longer time ran on, the more he lost. The more he loved, the more danger the beloved would be in. The more he trusted, the more he was betrayed. That tough skin sounded pretty damn good.

"Dom, lemme go."

He glanced down at her: the high pitch in her voice sounded deranged, unhinged. Mia squirmed against Dom's tightening grasp.

"Dom, _let me go_."

"Mia—"

She shoved harder at his arms.

"Let me go. Let me _go._" Her tone rose to full volume, increasing in tempo so she was barely understandable. "Let me go, LET ME GO, _LET ME GO!_" In that same instant, she began screaming, kicking out at Dom. His hold on her was no longer for comfort. It was restraint. "BRIAN!_ BRIAN!_" Mia shrieked his name over and over again. "Let me go! _BRIAN!_"

Her thrashing elbow gouged Dom in between his ribs, knocking the wind straight from his lungs. He released her immediately and doubled over, coughing. Mia bolted for the swinging doors that Brian and his EMTs had disappeared through. Ramming through the doors, Mia dashed the length of the hall, Dom shouting her name behind her.

"Mia! Get _back _here!"

Since he still couldn't breathe, the probability of Dom catching her was slim to none. He waited as long as he could, using up all the patience left from his body. The woman at the front desk tore off after Mia, screaming something about how she couldn't go back there.

Lungs on fire from all the screeching, running through the maze of halls in the hospital proved to be a piece of work. Kicking doors down as she ran, searching for him in every room, Mia couldn't stop thinking about Brian, and what would happen to him, and how she wouldn't leave him, and what if he died? And—

Her feet kicked, not unlike those old Saturday morning cartoons, in midair. Suddenly she wasn't on the ground anymore. Bulky arms snaked around her waist, lifting her away from the black-speckled, snow-white tile so she couldn't move further. The arms were familiar, of course—they were Dom, of this Mia had no doubt. But how could he do this? Let those _people_ just… take Brian away like that? He didn't know what they would do to him! What if they let him die! Mia clawed at the air, her fingers stretching toward the next room.

"_BRIAN!_" she cried. "_BRIAN!_"

"MIA!" Dom's voice echoed through the halls, deep and commanding, the only thing that could puncture the mad haze clouding her vision.

"_BRIAN!_" She would never stop. Not until she knew he was safe. Not until she was _certain_ he would live.

"MIA!"

She struggled violently, calling Brian's name again.

"Mia!" This time, Dom reduced his voice to a lower volume. "Mia!"

Cold. Something cold and sticky trailed down the high cheekbones defining Mia's perfectly sculpted face. Tears. She was crying. Splitting sobs shredded through her chest and lungs, making her entire body seize and convulse.

"Mia."

The tile soared up toward her, and she realized that Dom had fallen to his knees. Her own kneecaps stung with the impact. A calloused hand stroked her hair, cradling her face into a hard collarbone.

"Mia."

"Dom," she moaned, gasping for breath. "Dom, th-they sh-shot-t h-h-h-im, they sh-sh-shot him, th-they—"

"Shhh." Dom pressed his lips to her sticky, sweaty forehead. "Shhh, Mia. I'm here… I'm here."

* * *

_*A/N: By the way, bear with me please! I've got some tests I've got to cram for, so the writing may be a little postponed. I'm trying to write a chapter a day, because I'm just as excited to find out where this goes…_. _So, yeah. Once these tests are done, I'm catching up. _=D


	6. Assassin

**Chapter 6 – Assassin**

* * *

_*A/N: So, my tests are over, and driver's ed. is coming to a close! Woo-hoo! _=D _Thanks to all of you that wished me luck on the tests; I aced them! You guys must be freakin good luck charms or something…_. _Since I seemed to have disappeared over the last week, I am loading up today. Hopefully I'll get through Chapter 8. R&R! Please and thank you!_ =D

_OH! By the way, this is going to be a long chapter. Stick along for the ride!_

* * *

It probably wasn't very safe to be driving when the road before him swam in his vision, but really, when had Dom ever minded safety laws? Streetlights were just flickering on, their orange hue making his head throb. Neon green numbers in the dashboard read 8:06 P.M. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Dom quickly flipped on the radio to a loud, obnoxious station that would keep him awake for the fifteen-minute drive it took to get from the hospital back to his place. Mia rested silently in the front seat, watching the grass go by in a strip of dry yellow-green. Unlike Dom, Mia didn't suffer unnoticeably. The way her eyes glazed over, the purple stains on her lids, the sallow tint to her skin all exposed her. Compelled to comfort her, Dom draped his arms across her tiny shoulders.

"Hey." His deep voice was gravelly with a day and a half's worth of exhaustion. "The doctors said he'll live."

Mia responded with a heavy silence. Too tired to do anything more, Dom focused his attention on the way the music pounded on his ear drums until they ached. The pain kept him awake long enough to pull up next to the curb and drag his seemingly lead body to the kitchen. It wasn't until his eyes flitted across the fridge that he realized how hungry he really was.

"Mia," he grunted loudly enough for her to hear in the living room. "You hungry?"

"No," she answered monotonously.

"C'mon. You haven't eaten in two days," Dom insisted. "Get out here; I'll make you a sandwich or something."

Light footfalls signaled her reluctant approach and Dom pulled out a loaf of bread. Mia remained standing in the doorway.

"What do you want?" he asked, slapping a hunk of cold, leftover chicken onto a piece of bread. "Turkey? Chicken? PB&J?"

Mia chuckled hollowly and her brother flashed her an encouraging smile.

"Chicken," she allowed.

Dom added the top slice of bread and started on hers.

"A little more than that," Mia piqued as Dom went to top it off after three pieces.

He laughed and added two more. "Is that enough?"

She considered it, scanning the sandwich thoughtfully. "Ummm…." Her eyes squinted in shy embarrassment. "_One_ more."

Dom set the last piece on the pile, added the second slice of bread, and handed it to Mia, snagging a large bite from his own. The craving for food, though satisfaction squirmed in his stomach, intensified. As he ripped off a second bite, he watched Mia tear into hers.

"Thanks," she tried to say, but it came out more like a bear saying "hunks".

Bursting into laughter, Dom managed to swallow before choking.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he teased.

Mia gulped, and gulped again.

"Sorry, Mom."

Dominic smirked. "You bet your ass. Now get to bed."

The woman glared at him playfully, but picked up her sandwich upon his orders and shuffled out of the dimly lit room. With one foot on the step, Mia craned her head around and over her shoulder.

"Dominic?" she mumbled, pausing confusedly.

"Yeah?" Dom was puzzled: she didn't often use his full name.

"What about… you know… the, ah…."

Dom groaned. "Yeah, yeah…." He sighed, and wolfed down the rest of his sandwich. Pouring himself a glass of cranberry juice, he answered Mia before tossing it down. "I'll handle it."

"Do you want me to stay up?" she offered worriedly.

He shook his head. "No. Stay upstairs."

"Dom, if something happens to you—"

"Nothing will happen to me."

The look he sent her way was so confident, so determined, Mia didn't dare argue with him. How could she know that she was the one thing driving him to stay alive now? Dom couldn't die when Mia needed him. He couldn't leave her like that.

"What are you gonna do?" she whispered, as if her voice could travel to the garage.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Suddenly, Mia's arms were wrapped around Dom's large torso. She released him as soon as she'd embraced him and dashed up the stairs.

Dom rubbed his neck, resigned, and slid quietly out the back door. The sharp, dry grass crunched under his feet. _How sad is that_, he couldn't help but think. _The grass is crunching._ Exactly as he'd left it, the garage doors were shut and locked tight. Withdrawing his keys from his pocket, Dom twisted the knob open once the door clicked.

Darkness immediately swelled around him, only the blue light from the moon shining into the garage from the crevice formed by the open door. Dom flipped on the light. A buzzing sound kicked on as the lights flickered back and forth between on and off. His black Honda Civic glinted in the pale yellow beams, parked in the very back of the garage. Searching halfheartedly around the floor, he tried to retrace his steps. Where had he dropped her?

After a minute, Dom couldn't help but swear. It was getting ridiculous; the garage wasn't that big. And the doors were locked, she couldn't have just walked out. No windows were broken, ruling that path out. Just as he decided to check again in the morning, a soft, miniscule sound caught his ear. A small sigh.

"What the—get the hell out of my car!"

There she sat, calm as ever, in the driver's seat of his Civic. Wrenching the door open, Dom reached his hand in, grabbed an ear, and yanked. Out came a taller girl than he remembered. Assuming the height difference was due to his maddened rage (he had undoubtedly drawn himself up to full height), Dom shoved it away to the depths of his mind and allowed the same fury to lick his insides like flames. His hand flew to the girl's pasty throat and clenched around the neck. He felt her breath catch, much to his satisfaction. Dragging her to the nearest blank space, Dom swung her around to face him and slammed her against the cement wall.

"Wanna tell me what the hell you think you're doing, coming to _my_ house and shooting up the place?" His voice slid easily into a snarling threat.

The girl's sickly pale face remained blank of emotion.

"Well, why do _you_ think?" She spoke fluidly but tonelessly. Her words' pitch rose and fell, depending on the sentence structure, but there was no feeling behind them.

Angered further, Dom's grasp on her neck tightened and he slammed her once more into the concrete. Irritating him to no end, the girl _laughed_.

"You know, I'm kind of a masochist, so whatever you think you're doing… I don't know, maybe it's hurting _your_ hands, but…."

Disgusted, Dom released her like he'd been shocked.

"Who are you?" he ordered, not bothering to disguise the menace that crept up in his throat.

She stared at him for a moment, then dug through her pocket. Pulling out a worn, brown leather wallet, she tossed it at him. Reflexes earned from quick turns and bad driving habits compelled Dom to catch it, which he did. Glowering doubtfully at her, he sifted quickly through the wallet. Credit cards, State Farm Insurance, Social Security Number, a couple hundred dollars in cash, folded up wads of paper, driver's license. He withdrew this card and inspected it intensely.

Melissa Carly Gellar, blue eyes, red hair. Five foot-seven, one hundred and forty pounds. Date-of-birth: 04/23/1985, making her twenty-four. Resident of Los Angeles, California. Organ donor. How ironic.

"You have got to be the worst murderer I've ever heard of," Dom observed, still scanning the contents of the wallet, even the folded up papers, which turned out to be simple receipts.

The girl chuckled darkly. "Yeah, well…. It's not like I had anything against him."

The casual way with which she spoke exasperated Dom. How could she be so… calm about this? Why wasn't she angry with him? Why wasn't she trying to escape? _Why didn't she act human?_

"Then why the hell did you _shoot_ him?"

That was the first time he'd seen any sort of life spark in Melissa's cold, stony blue eyes. An excited sort of glint that she instantly tamed down.

"Adrenaline."

Protective rage surged through Dom's veins to his incredible surprise. He hadn't known he was so damn protective of Brian. Jesus.

"_Adrenaline_." The word was only a deadly soft whisper.

"Yes. If they had shots of it, I'd have needle marks all over my arms. As they don't…." Melissa shrugged. "And you kind of ruined it. The whole knocking-me-out thing kinda took it away."

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he hissed.

"Obviously."

"Who sent you?" Dom demanded, letting the last comment roll off his back. Brian had enough enemies, he could see one of them sending someone to kill him.

"Didn't you hear what I just said? No one sent me."

"Bull shit!" His fury exploded inside him, causing a split-second out-of-body experience. "You expect me to believe that? You know what—we'll continue this tomorrow." He strode to the door, too tired to press any further, and too angry to not kill her that moment. Unfortunately, he needed her alive, to figure out who sent her. "And every day after until you give. Clear your schedule."

He slammed the door behind him and, locking it, stomped angrily up to his bedroom.

The darkness immediately pressed on his eyes welcomingly and he stumbled to the bed, collapsing wearily on the covers. It had been an extremely long forty-eight hours.


	7. Pancakes

**Chapter 7 - Pancakes**

* * *

Dom's sleeping pattern was becoming really warped. When he opened his eyes and peered blearily at the digital clock on his dresser, it read 1:32 P.M. He turned over, realizing that he hadn't undressed when he fell asleep. He hated that. His clothes always got sticky and sweaty and made his throat feel clogged. Swiftly yanking off his shirt, he groggily shuffled to the bathroom for a highly-needed shower.

Letting the steaming water pour over his face, Dom's mind rejected the most recent events. Instead, he fixated on every bead of water that streamed across his heated skin, washing away the foam soap. He reached out to every inch of his body, feeling the drops relax his muscles. He flexed, tightening each muscle, and then released. It loosened the knots that twisted in his arms, legs, back, shoulders….

***

_Letty's fingertips, tracing along the contours of his body with the gentle touch of the breeze. Her lips, soft and warm, on his shoulders, neck, lips. Pulling him closer, closer, holding him tightly to her body. His hands slide from her thighs to her back, slipping under the fabric of her shirt. Following an invisible path down her neck, his lips brush across her jaw, her collar bone, feeling her skin shiver. Her heart pounds through her chest, against his. Her breath speeds up._

"_Dom…_._"_

***

Opening his eyes, Dom instantly shut off the water. Too close, too close. No more of that.

Once his hygienic rituals had been observed, Dom quietly made his way to Mia's room. He peeked in stealthily, barely opening the door. She lay under her covers, the blankets rising and falling steadily with her chest, her face smooth and peaceful. An amused, parental smile crept across his lips as he watched her mumble in her sleep.

"No more gummy bears…." She sighed and shifted a little.

Before he could wake her up with his laughter, Dom shut the door and stepped downstairs.

Soon, the pungent scent of bacon wafted through the house. Dom flipped a pancake over in a second frying pan as Mia appeared in the stairwell. She sniffed appreciatively.

"Smells good, Dom," she smiled at him.

"There's pancakes," he jerked the spatula toward the gradually growing pile. "I put cinnamon in them, just the way you like them."

"Dom, who died?" Mia half-joked, pinching a pancake and dropping it onto a new paper plate. "The hospital didn't call?" Her voice cracked. "Brian's still okay, right?"

"Yeah, he's fine," Dom assured her. "No one called. You've just had a crap time. I figured Dad's pancakes would cheer you up a bit."

A small smile brightened Mia's face in a soft, luminous way. Angel wings could have sprouted from her shoulders and nothing would change in that room.

"You know, Dom," she began, hovering beside him. "You're getting more and more like him every day."

Caught off guard, Dom turned back to the pans. Mia floated to the table and sat down, drizzling syrup over the three pancakes on her plate. Dom slid a couple pieces of bacon onto her plate and ripped a fresh pancake apart with his teeth. The hot bread burned his throat but he chewed slowly, thoughtfully. Cinnamon and vanilla caressed his tongue sweetly, sending him back. When his Dad was still alive, when Mia was just a little girl, when Dom himself was only a teenager. When his Dad was still making pancakes. God. Dom missed that.

* * *

_*A/N: Yo! Sorry about the absence of me! I've just been really busy (flag tryouts and cheerleading tryouts... which I made! _=D _Varsity football cheerleading squad and... well... there's only general flag, so... lol) and totally doubting my writing skills. ^^_p_ but, um... yeah. Back to the story. This chapter is really short, just to emphasize Dom and Mia's relationship, because I like writing about theirs more. ^^_p_ As always, R&R! Sorry about my inconsistancy!_

* * *


	8. Interrogation

**Chapter 8 – Interrogation**

* * *

_*A/N: So, I know I've been gone. But I just discovered that I write so much better with my special hat and between the hours of 8 P.M. and 3 A.M. so that is when I'm trying to write now. ^-^ I hope I keep having time! Lol. Okay, R&R as always!  
--Taylor-V_

* * *

Dom glared at the garage door halfheartedly, part of him wanting to go back into the house and sleep. These last couple days were killer on his energy levels. But with the threat of danger to his family now hovering over his head like a personal storm cloud, he was determined to begin the interrogation. Mia sighed with impatience at his side. Normally she wasn't so restless, but she was anxious to see the face of the person that shot her Brian. That is, anxious to give it a good, swift punch. Maybe a couple. Or, you know, whenever a coma had been induced. She shifted her weight to the opposite foot and smiled at the image of a faceless, bloody figure writhing in pain on the garage floor.

"C'mon, Dom," she urged. "Open the door."

"Can't you just go back into the house?" he growled. He didn't want her in any path of danger. Even if the danger _was_ in the form of a small woman that Dom held no fear of.

"Why should you get to have all the fun?" she argued, and stealing the key from Dom's fingers, unlocked the door and stepped into the near darkness.

Dom flipped the light switch up and the fluorescents immediately began to hum. His sister stepped in before him, folding her arms across her chest expectantly as her eyes flickered over the garage. Dom quickly shut the door behind them and leaned against it, locking it as he did so. Just in case.

"Come out, come out," he taunted.

Deep maroon hair no longer sleek and shining, the woman shuffled from the shadows. The whites of her eyes were shot with red from exhaustion and she could barely keep her lids up.

"Can I leave now?" she grumbled, her already hoarse voice cracking. "Did you finally admit you're crazy and that no one sent me?"

Mia expelled air sharply from her nose, making her seem like a peeved dragon.

"If no one sent you, then _you're_ the crazy one," Dom corrected gruffly. "Shooting people for no reason isn't exactly what sane people do when they're bored."

Glowering at him, she turned away, crossing her arms. "Fine." Stomping over to the Mazda, she yanked open the door with unnecessary force, clambered in, and slammed it shut so that the windows shook in their frames. Dom snarled and stamped directly to the same door and wrenched it open again. For the second time, he snatched her wrist and dragged her from the leather seats.

"Get out of my _car!_"

She stumbled over her own feet and he gripped her other wrist with his free hand. Her grey-blue eyes glared up into his deep, clear brown ones. Again, he was stunned by the way her face seemed devoid of life, though her actions showed nothing of it now. More to shake himself than her, he jerked her body with such ease that she might've been a stuffed doll, had her heart not been beating and her lungs pumping.

"Tell me who sent you," he demanded, his voice a low growl.

"Make me," she spat.

His own heart throbbed with satisfaction. "So someone did send you."

"If I say yes will you let go of my hands? I have to itch my nose."

Dom scowled at her for a minute, and spoke to Mia without looking away.

"Mia, go to Brian's room and grab his handcuffs."

Her cheeks tinged pink for just a second, but she ducked out of the garage before Dom could see.

"Seriously?" the girl raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Handcuffs? Wow, kinky…."

Dom's jaw tightened and he resisted the temptation to permanently weld her lips together. Instead, he kept his own mouth shut, refusing to acknowledge her remark. Thankfully, his patience didn't have the chance to run out. Mia returned within minutes.

Dom indicated that she should cuff one of the thin, pale wrists in his hands. Once the metal ring was locked—uncomfortably tight, she complained—Dom flipped her body over his shoulder. She didn't struggle, so it didn't take too long.

"This is ridiculous," she commented dully. "My legs _do_ work."

He dropped her harshly on the cement flooring and wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the leg of a heavy working bench that had been melded to the floor, causing her to double over. He tugged her arm down to his level and snapped the other cuff around her free wrist. After she managed to fold her legs under herself, her head swiveled around to frown at him.

"My circulation is getting cut off." She rattled the chain for effect.

"Should've thought about that."

Dom flipped on a second light, over his mass of tools. He brushed his fingertips with an odd grace over the metal contraptions, trying to decide what he wanted to do first. He reluctantly picked up a wrench. Glancing down at her face, his own permanently clenched in a disgusted scowl, he did a double-take.

"What?" There was no inflection in his word, it sounded more like a statement. What.

Her eyes flickered, flashing with panic for the first time, from his face to the wrench in his hand. Mia stepped to his side and whispered under her breath,

"Dom, what are you doing?"

The fear that flooded the hostage's expression matched Mia's. Even though she herself had just been fantasizing about torturing the human on the floor beside them, it was inexcusable for Dom to act on it. That would mean he'd finally slipped off the edge. That would mean hospitals. That would mean her big brother was lost.

Dom's gaze switched from his sister to the prisoner, back and forth. His chest shook with laughter when he realized what they were thinking.

"You…" he chuckled. "You think I'm gonna torture her?"

Mia blinked warily. Dom held her face between his two calloused palms and kissed her forehead. Then he pointed to his car with the tool.

"It needs a tune-up."

All of Mia's not-so-irrational fears dissipated and she laughed with relief. A small exhale whispered from below.

Dom spoke to his captive as he opened the hood of his Mazda, setting the wrench off to the side.

"Would that get you to talk? Because I might consider it."

"There's nothing to talk about." Her voice was lazy again.

He began with the usual checks. Oil, coolant level, brake fluid level, that kind of thing. They sat in silence for a minute, Mia itching to drill the girl with questions. However, she left that job to Dom. There was just something more intimidating about him than there was in Mia. Probably the fact that he looked as if he could snap your neck with one quick motion had something to do with it. And, though he might not have been aware of it, he really knew how to build tension until the victim cracked. While he tweaked this and twisted that, each sound seemed to reverberate through the room, rebounding on their ears like a hammer smashing into their temples. He let her squirm.

"Where are you from, Melissa?" he wondered idly after a long moment, feeling along a hose for cracks or leaks.

"And how exactly does that apply to this situation?" The girl's voice was doubtful.

Dom remained silent, waiting patiently for her answer. Working on his car calmed him, allowing him to think things through thoroughly. After a minute, she sighed.

"Fort Meyers, Florida."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward, and he was glad she couldn't see. He hoped to keep up the nonchalant cover to keep her nervous.

"Were you born there?"

"No. I was born in Des Moines, Iowa." She was cooperating well. Maybe she felt this information was harmless to disclose.

"When did you move to Fort Meyers?"

"After my parents could take me home. They were visiting family. They didn't expect me so soon. I was born four weeks early." Now she volunteered her own information. Again, harmless. Assumedly.

"And when did you move to California?" Dom finished with the hoses and moved to the belts.

"When I was ten."

"Why?"

"My dad got a different job."

"What was the job?"

"His boss transferred him t—"

Mia's cell phone went off, the high-pitched ringing piercing through the silence. It ruined the charade. Dom tried not to be irritated.

"Hello?" she hissed into the mouthpiece, stepping outside. She didn't lock the door, or even shut it for that matter, as there was no need now. Her voice faded as she moved out of earshot. Dom returned to feeling along the thin rubber, his fingertips extra sensitive to any abnormalities.

"You were saying?" he prompted.

"He got transferred to a supervisor for the company he worked for—"

"Which was?"

"A restaurant chain."

He waited for her to elaborate. She picked up on it after a couple quiet seconds.

"Have you heard of the Rainforest Café?"

Dom's forehead creased. Really? The Rainforest Café? He'd been there once, when he was little. It felt strange, tying that time to now.

"And your mother?"

"She—"

"Dom!" Mia rushed in, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement. "Brian's awake!"


	9. Healing Words

**Chapter 9 – Healing Words**

* * *

If he was completely honest with himself, Dom would be fed up with waiting areas. What a way to spend your time, wracked with worry, hyperventilating, suspense and tension the main occupants of the usually distraction-deprived rooms. No one that actually waited for someone or something important flipped through the tabloids available, and if they did, it wouldn't have any affect. So when he found himself staring—again—at the empty, white walls of the lounge area he couldn't help but wonder if the world had something against him. Not in a self-pitying way, never in a self-pitying way. He was beginning to sincerely believe that someone, somewhere, was trying to get payback. For what, he didn't know. But he was tempted to scream up at the ceiling:

"YOU WIN! I GIVE UP! YOU GOT ME! CAN I HAVE MY LIFE BACK?"

The cushions were the most uncomfortable he'd ever sat on, and a soap opera was playing on the fuzzy screen. The halls stank of sanitization and vitamin-enriched food, making his stomach squirm with nausea. Dom hated hospitals. So, rather than deal with it, he clasped his hands between his knees and let his head droop, clenching his eyelids shut.

Mia's nails tapping on the receptionist's desk offered some diversion, and he tried to count how many times the irregular beat sounded. He made it to five hundred and eighty-two before it cut off and she hurried to his side.

"He's in recovery, room 624."

Mia's eyes shone with desperation and she held her trembling hand out to Dom. He blinked a couple times before taking it and heaving himself to his feet. People passed in groups, some crying, some laughing, and Dom wondered idly how their patients were doing. How long they would have to see them, what was wrong. This train of thought kept him busy until Mia tugged him into a curtained room. A game was on, the announcers bantering like brothers as a bad play was executed. However, the men's voices couldn't drown out the steady beeping of the machines connected to Brian.

Yanking back the curtains, Mia hurtled to Brian's side. A swiveling desk hovered over his lap, a lunch tray laying half-eaten, still steaming under his chin. His eyes instantly brightened at the sight of his guests.

"Mia!" He only had eyes for her, and that was okay with Dom. He settled into a more comfortable recliner, sinking into the thick cushion and leaning his head back.

The smell of hospital food fogged his brain and he tried to breathe only with his mouth, closing his eyes and stretching out luxuriously in the chair.

"How are you?" she gushed, her hands drifting from his head to his feet, adjusting blankets here, repositioning tubes there, brushing bangs from his eyes.

"I am healing, and the burning pain is much less noticeable." Brian flashed her an encouraging, endearing grin, reaching up to grasp her chin in his palm. As he pulled her in for a kiss, the blankets fell from his chest, revealing the thick, white bandages wrapped around his abdomen. They were clean of blood, but they were new, too. "They stitched me up pretty well." Brian flicked his hand casually to his wound.

Tears welled in Mia's eyes, spilling over almost instantly. The salty tracks stained her smooth cheeks and she placed another kiss on his forehead. Brian gazed at her fiercely, his expression suddenly serious.

"Mia." He held her jaw between his two hands, the tubes pulling at the needle embedded in his veins, making his skin stretch unnaturally. "I will be fine. Why are you crying?"

A tiny sob escaped her lips and she blinked rapidly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

"Because, you jerk!"

The two men in the room stared at her, bewilderment spreading across their faces.

"Do you know how _worried_ I've been?" she growled. "And here you sit, joking with me? Acting like it isn't a big deal? Acting like you didn't just get shot and almost die?" She huffed and puffed indignantly, glowering directly at him before rounding on Dom. "And you!"

He blinked with confusion. "What'd I do?"

"You didn't even say hi! You didn't even ask how he _was!_ Do men have no feelings?" Mia swirled on her heel and folded her arms across her chest stubbornly, glaring unseeingly at the television perched high above their heads.

Dom and Brian exchanged baffled glances. And then they both exploded into gales of laughter. Mia stamped her foot angrily, facing them again.

"Why is it that whenever I get mad someone laughs?" she howled.

This made them laugh harder, and Brian clutched at his ribs.

"Stop…!" he cackled, doubling over. "Don't—make me—laugh! It hurts!"

"You're gonna pull your stitches," Dom managed between bursts of laughter. "And I'm going to laugh!"

Mia's lips twitched upward; she couldn't resist smiling at Brian's torn expression. His brow was knitted and his nose wrinkled in pain, but his lips had stretched into a grin and his face was flushed with excitement.

When they'd finally calmed down, after Brian's abs really began to hurt, Mia curled up into his side and they sat in silence for a little, enjoying the long-absent peace. Fluttering determinedly, Mia's eyelids struggled to remain open, but her exhaustion won out in the end. Like Dom, her sleeping pattern had been flipped and twisted and bent until sleep was a rare event. Her chest rose and fell steadily with her even breaths, and Brian tucked her head under his chin. Gazing meaningfully at Dom, he opened his mouth to speak.

The older brother shushed him before he could say anything.

"But—"

"Not now," Dom groaned. "I just got that out of my head."

"Dom—" Brian attempted.

"I just relaxed!" he protested. "We'll talk later."

"But—"

Dom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning far back in the chair. "Brian," he sighed exasperatedly. "You're going to have a stroke if you keep worrying. Chill. Listen to the healing words." Dom jerked his chin toward the bickering announcers on the television, a small mocking smile curling his lips. "Let me sleep."

* * *

_*A/N: This chapter's kinda slow, I know. It's basically to illustrate how heavily each of them needs to chill so they can heal. Like, you rest when you're sick to get better. This is what they need, and they've been neglecting it._


	10. Handcuffed

**Chapter 10 – Handcuffs**

* * *

Visiting Brian so much in the past couple days had refreshed Dom's brain, allowing him to sleep for hours on end until he actually felt energized. His sleeping schedule fell back into its original pattern of about seven hours—from midnight to seven. Sure, he had the nightmares where Letty's face swam tantalizingly before him, just out of his reach. If it wasn't random images of her that tortured him, it was the nightmare he'd had the night before the shooting. Every night this happened he woke in a cold sweat, panting like someone had rammed a wrecking ball into his gut. He would kick off the blankets, stumble weakly over to the window and thrust it open, allowing the cool breeze to dry his skin. He would fall asleep holding the ledge and wake up a couple hours later to blazing sunlight.

As for now, Dom lay under his Civic, tweaking things here and there and drilling his prisoner with questions. So far he'd learned that her mother was a nurse at Brian's hospital, that she herself held a steady job at one of the local newspapers as a photographer (with a salary of $37,000 a year), that she had one twenty-six-year-old brother—Austin—who now lived in Brownsville, Texas, and that she had an addiction to adrenaline. She didn't seem to want to reveal any more than that, however. She stopped talking as soon as Dom brushed on the subject of Brian.

"Have you ever been here before?"

He'd thought that question would be a little too close, but didn't have time to rethink it before it was out of his mouth. Her jaw clenched shut with an audible _snap_ and she turned her face around to glower at the cement bench she was cuffed to. Not in time for him to miss the green and yellow and purple bruises that had blossomed over the side of her face and around her neck in the last five days.

"What?" he asked innocently. He tried playing dumb, sliding out from under the car to gaze at her questioningly.

Her bluish-grey eyes flickered toward him, then away again.

"I'm starving," she growled. As if in agreement, her stomach rumbled loudly. "I'm gross. I haven't showered in days."

Dom's lips curled into a cruel smirk. "You should have thought about that before," he repeated.

"Fine." She sealed her lips shut.

With the motion, Dom sighed. "You're not going to talk until I feed you and let you shower."

She blinked and he sighed again. Hauling himself to his feet, he stretched and stepped through the open garage door, into the California sunshine.

"Stay," he mumbled, and trudged to the kitchen.

He'd already eaten not an hour ago, so he wasn't very hungry. He picked grumpily through the fridge, not wanting to humor her. Finding the food to nourish her wasn't the hard part, it was actually _nourishing_ her, and not just letting her sit there, miserable, starving. Dom could almost taste sweet revenge on his taste buds when he pictured her body limp and weak, skin strained against the bones, on the verge of death. So tempting was this image that he grabbed two slices of bread, a Kraft Single, poured a cup of water, and with a sarcastic grin on his lips, strutted out to the garage.

The hopeful look in her eyes almost made him feel guilty—almost. When he swaggered through the door, her head jolted up from absently inspecting the floor and her nose twitched like a rabbit's. Upon spotting the pitiful meal, she instantly turned her back, twitchy nose in the air. But not before Dom could spot the dead look in her eyes. He set the paper plate in front of her and slid back under the car.

"There you go."

"You're kidding me, right?" she scoffed. "I can't eat that."

"Sure you can," he encouraged darkly. "Pick up, place in mouth, chew, swallow, repeat. You shouldn't underestimate yourself. It's not healthy."

A sharp, grating exhale told Dom she'd snorted.

"I'm lactose intolerant, you jerk."

"No you're not," he sneered, picking up a wrench, relishing the cool feel of metal in his hands.

"Fine, I'll just eat it and then go into anaphylactic shock. Are _you_ going to tell them you forced me to eat cheese with a dairy allergy when I'm _dead?_"

"You won't go into anaphylactic shock from eating _cheese_."

"Uh-huh! If you're lactose intolerant!"

"Nuh—" Dom shook his head clear, disbelief for what he was just about to say rattling his insides. "Whatever! Then don't eat it. Eat the bread."

It was quiet for a second.

"Does it have milk in it?"

Dom groaned and rolled out from under the vehicle, glaring at her. "I don't know!"

"Well, I'm not taking any chances. This is my _life_ we're talking about."

"You shot my friend, why would I care about _your_ life?" he growled.

She fixed him with an intense, burning gaze. One filled with triumph. "Because _my_ life is the one you need, right? For questioning?"

Caught. She'd caught him in his own side. Like a freaking spider web. It was a wonder she wasn't a lawyer. Huffing and puffing, his fists clenched on the hood of the Civic, Dom fumed for a little more before cooling down.

"Fine," he snapped, bending down to unlock her cuffs, gripping her both wrists with a steely grasp in a hand the size of a grizzly's paw. "Fine. You come with me, into the kitchen, and then I'll take you upstairs to shower. You will _not_ touch anything, you will _not_ try to escape, or I _will_ kill you."

The blazing in his irises seemed to convey the message, as she stood up silently. For good measure, Dom slapped one cuff around his own arm and then the other around hers. He practically dragged her out of the garage, up to the house, and into the kitchen, nearly steaming out the ears. They were quiet as she surveyed the tiny room.

"It's really small," she complained.

"Shut up!" he barked, jerking his wrist violently so that she flopped like a fish.

"Ow," she whined, rubbing the scarlet skin around the steel cuff. "You nearly ripped my arm off."

"You can survive with one," he snarled. "Now. What _can_ you eat?"

"Meat, fruit, bread—most of the time—" She ticked the list off on her fingers, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling as she spoke. "Veggies, eggs…."

"Here." He tossed a small piece of cold chicken her way and an apple.

With impressive reflexes, she caught the flying food and swiftly brought the chicken to her mouth. Her teeth tore into it like a lioness's, blue-grey eyes shining. Dom withdrew a cup from the cupboard and held it under the faucet, filling it three-fourths of the way to the top. She accepted it ravenously and downed the clear liquid, making gulping sounds as it traveled down her throat. She took a slower time with the apple, obviously trying to elongate the moment, maybe to trick her brain into thinking she was eating more. Incredibly, to his disgust, Dom's stomach twisted guiltily.

"Hurry up." Yelling made him feel a little better.

But of course, like she knew what it did to his conscience, she slowed down considerably. She must've been satisfied enough to return to annoying him.

"If that thing isn't gone in the next minute I'm throwing it away."

She looked him up and down, considering the threat. His expression was stony enough to convince her and she took a giant bite of the fruit. Once nothing but the core was left—and she worked around that until it barely existed—she tossed it in the trash and allowed Dom to yank her up the stairs and into the bathroom.

"You know, it'd be kind of awkward if we were both in there," she said pointedly, jerking her elbow toward the shower and dropping her head to stare accusingly up at him from under her messy maroon bangs.

Dom glanced at the window and back at her, then folded his arms across his chest, causing her to stumble closer, arm held out at an odd angle.

"We don't have to both be in there."

"Uh," was all she said, shaking her wrist so the chain connecting them rattled.

He glared blankly at her.

"Then you're going to have to _re-move_ this," she elaborated, shaking the chain again and emphasizing the two syllables in the word 'remove'.

"Not in your lifetime."

"Then how do you propose I shower?"

Again, he remained silent, though a small smirk played with the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying torturing her.

"Oh." She blinked in realization. Her face pulled into a disbelieving grimace. "You jackass."

She twisted the knob toward 'hot' with her free hand and began to undress. Throwing a nasty glower his way, she pulled off her socks.

"You better hide your eyes," she grumbled through her teeth.

"Wouldn't dream of any other way," he retorted, averting his gaze though his eyes were already clenched shut. He stretched his arm out to create the biggest distance between them and clasped his other hand over his eyes. The brush and light weight of cotton fabric suddenly hung on his wrist and, as moisture from the steam beaded on his skin, he felt his face flush, listening to the gush of water from the faucet turn into a sprinkling rush from the showerhead. The consistent _shhh_-ing of the water was abruptly interrupted by a female body, stepping into the line of fire.

God, how he missed Letty.

* * *

**A/N: Hey! I AM BACK! WOO! lol. i've been so busy lately, i've just been here and there and back to here and then all the way over there and it's just been crazy hectic but i'm BACK and so you all know, it is all because of YOU! my readers! *tear* I LOVE YOU GUYS! ****and how 'bout a special shout-out to Emma Rose23, the one reader that's persistently checked with me to keep me going. she had major influence on my return! so thank you! =D applause, applause! well deserved! =) mad hearts!**


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